


Iron

by AndyAO3



Series: somewhere (there's a place for us) [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Injury, M/M, Star-crossed lovers trope all the way, is it shotgunning if it's magical healing Reaper smoke?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: Sombra is never going to let Reaper live this one down, and thus Reaper is probably never going to let Morrison live it down either. It's like a daisy chain of embarrassment and blackmail material.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned this incident in a previous fic so it's been kicking around in my head as That One Noodle Incident that I really needed to write but never did. Y'all can have it as filler until I get something more substantial written out. Also, I was torn between titling it after "Run Boy Run" or "Iron", because whatever one work doesn't get, another one does. ahhhh music.
> 
> Sombra is a giggling troll and I fucking _love her_.

From a high balcony of a skyscraper, the Reaper watched. Ostensibly, he was the extra muscle sent in as backup in case the mission went wrong and the package couldn't be secured.

"So we're stalking now," chirped a smug voice in his ear. "Yes, this will definitely win him over."

"I'm not stalking him," the Reaper grumbled. "And since when is it any of your business anyway?"

On the other end of the comm line, Sombra sounded very much like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Technically, it should be Talon's business. You're lucky I think this is hilarious."

"I know where you sleep."

"Ooh, scary. Is the big bad Reaper going to come kill me because I made fun of his crush?"

"You know I've killed people for less." Reaper turned his attention back to Numbani at large-- the cleared streets, the emptied businesses. There were two packages. One was a dud, the other was the real thing. The former was guarded by a team of chipper young agents of the new Overwatch, and the latter by a lone super-soldier.

Clumsy as hell, if you asked him. Between the girl in the mech suit, Oxton zipping around, and the short kid with the loud music, the first group drew too much attention to their payload to _not_ be the decoy. Jack, meanwhile, was backdooring, taking back alleys and cutting through abandoned shops. Briefcase in one hand, pulse rifle clutched in the other and slung over his shoulder. And as much as Reaper knew he was trying his best, Jack really wasn't suited for stealth. If Talon had put Widowmaker on the team instead of Reaper, Jack would be dead already.

But Jack _was_ suited for combat, and Reaper was fairly confident that Jack could take on a handful of Talon goons with ease. He was also pretty sure that Jack would see Talon's ambush a mile away, thus making it so Reaper didn't have to do anything but report back to his handlers that the Soldier had bested them again and Reaper had been forced to retreat (oh darn, what a shame!) for the sake of cutting their losses.

That was, of course, the plan. Jack, however, had a tendency to get in the way of plans. This was because Jack was a dumbass.

Reaper could see it going wrong before it did. Maybe Jack's visor was still sort of busted, or maybe he was paying attention to something else, but the Talon mooks were amassing around the choke point and Jack was still acting like nothing was wrong. He had none of the tension in him that usually came with him seeing a trap, he didn't look wary or concerned at all.

"Looks like your _soldado_ is in trouble~" the voice in his ear singsonged.

"Sombra," Reaper addressed her. It wasn't long before a fight broke out down below. Shots fired, goons yelling, a trio of Helix rockets slamming into a locked-down storefront in a shower of glass. The usual.

His observant tagalong seemed far too amused by this. "Mm?" she hummed.

Reaper continued to watch, grim behind the mask. Jack was losing, going through biotic field generators as he was backed neatly into a corner. Outmanned and outgunned. Shit. "Cut their comms," the wraith instructed.

She just laughed as he shifted in, already pulling out his shotguns.

\---

It was easy enough to deal with the Talon grunts on his own, at least for Reaper. Goons, particularly in clumps like that, weren't hard to handle. Especially when they didn't see him coming and couldn't get anything resembling a barrier up in time, seeing as they'd already used them against a flailing and probably half-blind Jack, who had been getting by with his usual spray'n'pray technique until he'd been forced to duck behind cover.

By the time Reaper was done, he was overflowing with energy, practically sparking with it. Hyperaware of how everything tingled and burned as the nanotech went into overdrive, like it always did after a good 'feast'. Set his teeth on edge, really, but he was used to it.

Sadly, he was used to Jack being injured too, so it was with a heavy sigh that he drifted along the trail of blood droplets on the pavement to find the old soldier's hiding place. Still clutching that silly briefcase - was that what had thrown his aim off, then? - and taking a second to realize Reaper was actually there.

"Nice entrance," Jack croaked. Then he coughed, and the coughing turned into a fit, until he was forced to reach up and fumble at the mechanisms of his mask and visor. Ripping it off, tossing it aside; the inside was flecked with blood.

Reaper clicked his tongue. "What, can't handle a few lackeys, Jack? Thought you would've seen them coming a mile away."

"Would've, if someone hadn't fucked up my visor." Jack gestured in the direction he probably thought the thing had gone; it was actually nowhere near where he thought it was. "Working with a spare at the moment. Peripherals are shot all t'-- _hck_ \--"

Reaper kneeled as Jack fell into another fit of wet coughing, frowning behind his own mask. "Mines?" he asked.

The old soldier nodded. "Mines," he wheezed. "Some kinda gas."

"Biotic emitters?"

"Fresh out. Didn't work."

Shit. Venom mines were a Talon specialty, with varying degrees of potency in the poison. Widowmaker used a fairly light version, because she liked it when her targets panicked and brought friends. But other goons, well--

"Called in for backup," Jack rasped. "Get the hell outta here, Gabe."

"Like hell I will." Reaper's thoughts were as much a mess as his nanotech was, swirling and boiling. But there was certainty in there, too: he couldn't leave Jack like this.

In an instant, Reaper had his mask off. A snap decision; he had a way he could heal Jack. He could fix this. All he needed was a point of contact. He leaned in close, closer. Cupped Jack's strong jaw, tipped his head up, ignored the look of shock and confusion. Feeling his breath, his warmth, his life. A dark part of Reaper's mind thought, _it would be so easy to drain him dry._ If any Talon members were still alive - if Sombra hadn't done as she was fucking told - then that was exactly what his employers would expect him to do.

Jack's hand flew up, gripping his wrist tightly through black leather. A silent plea written in those dulled eyes. Like the soldier was afraid, but not for himself.

"Gabe," he pleaded.

The Reaper smiled back. "Shhhh," he soothed. All he needed was a point of contact; closing his eyes, he went in for a kiss. Jack stiffened in his grip, then relaxed after a moment, then stiffened again as the nanotech went to work, digging gloved fingers into Reaper's wrist. He could _feel_ Jack's heartrate spike, practically taste the lifeblood flowing through the old soldier. It wasn't hard to track down the injuries, the parts of Jack that were damaged and in need of repair. The challenge for him lay in finding an endpoint to the repair, forcing himself to stop before he went overboard.

(How much of a boost would it be to suck the life out of a fellow SEP lab rat, Reaper wondered. For once, would he be able to do it without involving death? A question for another time, perhaps.)

"Doing good, Jack," he mumbled against the soldier's lips. Maintaining the point of contact needed for the repair, because he knew Jack would need that anchor through the most painful parts of it. It wasn't a soft, warm thing like a normal biotic field; Reaper's healing worked by breaking cells down and rebuilding them the way they were supposed to be. Things that didn't need to be there, like shrapnel and poison and bullets, were broken down in the process and absorbed to be used as raw material for further repairs.

In short, it burned like having one's insides dipped in the fires of Hell, and Reaper was careful to be as quick and efficient about it as possible for Jack's sake.

And Jack still came out of it wheezing and clinging to him, gasping for air as the smoke cleared.

"Christ." If it weren't for the gloves, Reaper knew he'd be able to see knuckles gone white from the deathgrip Jack had on his wrist, on his coat. If it weren't for the healing factor, Reaper knew he'd have some bruising. "The fuck _was_ that?"

Reaper chuckled. Pressed another kiss to the corner of Jack's mouth, then to his nose, then the scar that cut through his brow. "It's called shotgunning, Jack."

Jack huffed as his grip relaxed, still catching his breath. It looked like he was slowly figuring out that he actually could, instead of choking to death on his own blood. "Always knew you were a kinky bastard."

"Don't act like you're not worse than me," Reaper shot back, even as he fondly stroked his clawed fingertips over Jack's face.

"Worse than you? Never. Worse than most people thought I was?" Jack smirked, tipped his head back. Reached up to straighten out the wraith's hood as he straightened and gave the Reaper a quick, breathless peck on the cheek. "Always." Then he patted the other man on the shoulder. "Now get outta here before my people catch your dumb ass."

Reaper snorted, picked up his mask and put it back on as he stood. "You're lucky I like you enough to not blow you off out of spite for trying to give me orders," he remarked. "Try to be more careful next time, alright?"

"Dismissed, Reyes."

"Oh yes sir, Commander Morrison."

By the time Jack could find anything to throw at his head, Reaper was long gone.

(To his dismay, Sombra had only half-listened to his order to cut the comms. She had been listening the entire time.)

 


End file.
